Chapter 2

To outsiders, my marriage was perfect.

My husband, Andrew Linwood, was handsome, wealthy, and successful. He was a rising star in the business world.

And I, Jane Winters, was his devoted wife for years.

We were each other's first love. We walked the path from school uniforms to wedding veils. To the world, ours was a storybook romance.

Andrew treated me so well.

He was perfect in every way.

He remembered all our anniversaries and always prepared thoughtful gifts for me.

He'd patiently go shopping with me, peel shrimp for me, and even get up in the middle of the night to cook me noodles if I was hungry.

I always thought I was the happiest woman in the world.

That was until everything changed.

Andrew made a call right in front of me that night.

"Fire Ryan Miller, the intern." he said.

I couldn't hear what the person on the other end was saying.

Andrew's tone left no room for argument. "Reason? None. My company. My whim. Since when do I need a reason to fire someone?"

He hung up and came over to pull me into his arms.

"Don't be upset, Jane. He's just a nobody." Andrew said softly.

His embrace was as warm as ever.

His voice was as gentle as always.

But right then, all I felt was a coldness spreading through me.

If Ryan really didn't know me and was just recklessly trying to protect Andrew, then Andrew's response was way too severe.

It was so harsh.

It was almost irrational.

Unless, he was hiding something.

That night, for the first time, sleep eluded me.

The next day, I hired a private investigator.

I just needed to know the truth.

I wonder if Ryan did it on purpose.

The answer came quickly.

It was a photo. In the photo, Ryan was acting all respectful, talking to some woman.

The woman had her back to the camera. I couldn't see her face.

But I recognized the camel trench coat she had on.

Andrew had handpicked it for me last quarter. That was an exclusive custom design.

But I'd never worn it, not even once.

It had been quietly hanging in my wardrobe all this time.

My heart hit rock bottom in that moment.

Turns out, the perfect marriage was nothing but a lie.

Turns out, all that tenderness could be given to someone else, too.

I didn't cry.

I didn't lose control.

I just calmly dialed a number. "Can you find out who owns this car?"

I gave them the license plate number of Ryan's white Hyundai.

Then, I went to the garage.

In the corner sat a black Porsche Panamera.

Andrew gave it to me for my birthday, but I barely touched it.

Today, I wanted to drive it.

The engine growled, low and wild, like some caged animal.

I slammed on the gas, and the car shot out of the garage like it had just been set free.

I headed straight for the underground garage at Andrew's office building.

And pulled up right next to Ryan's parking spot.

I stayed in the car.

I just waited quietly.

At six o'clock, as the workday ended, Ryan strolled over, whistling a tune and looking totally relaxed.

When he spotted a million-dollar luxury car parked next to his spot, he let out a low whistle.

But when he saw the license plate, his smile froze.

It was the license plate Andrew had chosen for me, the numbers of my birthday.

Yeah, he knew it right away.

The window was lowered.

I sat there, sunglasses on, expressionless as I stared at him.

His smile faded away, bit by bit.

He was wearing that sickly pale look I'd seen on him yesterday at the restaurant.